


the moon like bone, the stars like teeth

by TheFlirtMeister



Series: in the back of the car as the lights go by [4]
Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, First Time, Fist Fights, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 02:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15063254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFlirtMeister/pseuds/TheFlirtMeister
Summary: Roman thinks of a boy stripping off his flesh to become a beast. He thinks of Peter laying naked in the snow, icicles clinging to his eyelashes. Roman had wanted to kiss him then, wrap Peter up in his coat and protect him.“I meant what I said in the hotel room.” Peter says slowly, “I love you. I’m not leaving.”





	the moon like bone, the stars like teeth

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! have some more of this self indulgent au, which isn't in chronological order.

Roman is sitting on the bonnet of the car, and the boy beside him is sharpening a knife. They’re on the edge of a cliff top, the dark woods behind, and the stars above to judge. Roman is staring down at the midnight-cast city below, watching the twinkle of headlights, staring at the burnt-out shell of a manor.

The town is Hemlock Grove. The boy is Peter. The manor was Roman’s home.

Roman is close enough that he can smell the stink of rot that drifts from Hemlock Grove and feels like he could drown in it. He’s hungrily staring down at the town with the knowledge that nobody can see him. Why didn’t he take advantage of what he had before, why did he never come up here and stare down at the town, at these little people, with their little lives?

Peter leans forward and presses a kiss to Roman’s shoulder. Roman has lost weight over the past month, all his old shirts slip off him. He feels like a bird sometimes, with hollow bones. Peter’s mouth burns against Roman’s skin.

“My mom took me up here.” Peter says. “Before we arrived and took the old trailer.”

Roman doesn’t say anything. Instead he tilts his head back just a little, and Peter continues.

“I remember staring down at the cars and the houses and all the little fancy shops,” He says, “And thinking, damn, how will I ever fit in here?”

“You might have seen me and not even known it.” Roman points out.

“Maybe I did.” Peter leans forward to stare out over the town. “A little speck in the distance, Roman fucking Godfrey, shopping for cocaine.”

“You don’t shop for cocaine.” Roman says, eyebrow raised, and Peter grins.

“I know.” He says, and then gives a little shrug. “Nah though. I would have known, if I saw you. I would have felt something. In my balls.”

“Do I normally give you feelings in your pants?” Roman asks, and Peter laughs.

“You bet it.” He says, and then takes hold of Roman’s hand, tangling their fingers together, almost shyly.

Roman glances down at their hands, at his own pale skin against Peter’s. Peter has dirt underneath his finger nails, calloused knuckles. Roman has nails that are almost blue in colour and scars across the backs of his hands.

“I love you.” Peter blurts out.

Roman blinks. “What?”

“I love you.” Peter repeats. “So much Roman.”

“Oh.” Roman replies.

Peter is lying. Roman knows this, because he is incapable of being loved. Roman is cruel and spiteful and needs blood to survive. He is, by definition, a creature without a beating heart. Peter cannot love him.

 “I’m going to take a piss.” Roman says finally, pulling his hand away from Peter’s.

“Cool.” Peter says, in a voice that is meant to sound casual, but comes out strained. He leans back against the car windscreen. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Roman jumps down from the car bonnet, brushing invisible dust from his jeans. He can feel Peter’s gaze hot on the back of his neck. It makes his skin prickle, and Roman wants to turn around and demand what right Peter has to lead him on.

Instead he turns and walks into the woods.

It seems that Roman can’t even escape Peter in here, he can smell the almost year-old scent of Peter’s wolf. It still stings at his nostrils though, despite the age, and Roman leans against a tree as he pictures Peter running through here, yellow eyed and hungry for a kill.

Roman pisses quickly to distract himself, trying to write his own name in the stream. He shakes off quickly, tucking himself away, and then wipes his hand on a tree bark, like the prissy girl he is. He’s just about to go back to Peter, to distract him somehow with a joke or a fight when he catches sight of his own face.

There’s a missing poster laying on the forest floor, half covered with dead leaves and moss. Roman’s face is emblazoned across the front, an old school photo that Olivia hadn’t wanted to pay for. Roman drops down onto his knees to scrabble about in the dirt, pulling the poster out from the undergrowth.

MISSING: ROMAN GODFREY. 6 FT 3. 85 KG. LAST SEEN ON THE 23RD OF OCTOBER 2015. IF YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION, CALL THIS NUMBER.

The number is Shelley’s. Roman knows it off by heart, could recite it backwards in his sleep if he needed to. Roman strokes the blurred lettering, thinking of his baby sister printing out fliers and asking around desperately if anyone had seen her brother. Her awful, coked up, murderous big brother.

Roman is sobbing before he even realises it, on the floor of the words, missing poster crumpled between his hands. He can’t control himself, wailing out into the night as he thinks of Shelley’s face, of _Letha’s_ face, how everything used to be good, and Roman was selfish and stupid and ruined it.

Roman’s sleeves are rolled up, and he’s clawing at the skin, and he’s going to punish himself, and-

Peter’s hands are on Roman, pushing him back hard onto the dirt. Roman howls up at him, and Peter straddles his hips, pinning Roman’s hands up above his head so he can’t hurt himself. Roman struggles against Peter’s grip, but Peter is firm, and unforgiving.

“Fuck you.” Roman spits.

“You’re a god damn idiot.” Peter tells him. “Why do you have to make everything so difficult?”

“You never should have let me live-“ Roman says, trying again to break out of Peter’s grasp. “You should have torn out my heart like I wanted-“

Peter’s kiss is searing, a clash of teeth and hot lips. Roman pushes his body up against Peter’s, and Peter takes what he wants, kissing at Roman’s mouth, and then pulling away just as abruptly.

“ _I love you_.” Peter says. “Can you get that through your thick fucking skull Roman Godfrey? I love you. End of.”

“How?” Roman asks angrily.

“How?” Peter repeats incredulously. “You’re asking me _how_?”

Roman bares his teeth at Peter, showing off sharp fangs designed for murder. “You love this?” He hisses.

Peter kisses Roman again, with desperation written in his lips. He flicks out his tongue, running it over Roman’s teeth, and adjusts the pressure on Roman’s stomach so it sends a throb straight to his cock.

“I don’t understand.” Roman says against Peter’s mouth. “I’m a monster.”

“I’m a fucking werewolf.” Peter says, like Roman is stupid. “Do you think I give a shit?”

Roman thinks of a boy stripping off his flesh to become a beast. He thinks of Peter laying naked in the snow, icicles clinging to his eyelashes. Roman had wanted to kiss him then, wrap Peter up in his coat and protect him.

“I meant what I said in the hotel room.” Peter says slowly, “I love you. I’m not leaving.”

“Do you promise?” Roman asks like a child.

“I swear on my mother’s life.” Peter says, pressing one hand to his heart. He looks at his arm suddenly, like an idea has struck him.

“Peter,” Roman warns, and Peter bites down onto his wrist, tearing at the flesh.

 Blood dribbles down his chin, some of it dripping onto Roman, and Roman makes a noise that could make a grown man blush. Peter offers his wrist to Roman, and Roman licks at the blood hungrily, sucking on Peter’s skin till all he can taste is rust and salt.

“Blood pact.” Peter says hoarsely.

Roman pulls away, mouth stained red. He runs a tongue over his lips, Peter’s eyes tracking his every movement.

“I believe you.” He says simply.

“Good.” Peter replies.

They’re both breathing heavily, chests rising up and down as they stare at one another. Roman is all too aware of Peter sitting on top of him, of the few layers of material that are separating their bodies together. They could rut in the woods like animals, dirt and blood and fluid like the creatures they are.

“We should go back to the car.” Peter says but doesn’t stand up. “Let’s go.”

“Why did you bring me here?” Roman asks instead.

Peter is quiet for a moment. “I wanted to see if you’d leave.” He admits. “If I showed you Hemlock Grove, I wanted to see if you’d turn tail and go running back.”

“I didn’t leave.” Roman says.

“I can see.” Peter says, looking down at Roman.

“I _wouldn’t_ leave.” Roman says, locking eyes with Peter. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“But you give me so much to worry about.” Peter says. He swipes his thumb across Roman’s mouth. “Your lips, for one. They worry me.”

Roman catches Peter’s thumb with his teeth and sucks on it lightly. He looks up at Peter from underneath his eyelashes and feels the full body shudder that goes through Peter’s body.

“Can we-“ Peter starts, and Roman is already pulling Peter down into the dirt with him.

“Yes.” He says simply, and then they’re kissing again, and Peter’s hands are all over him like poison ivy.

Roman can feel Hemlock’s eyes on him as he lays there in the dirt, wanting and waiting. He finds that he doesn’t mind it. He has a different home now, and it’s written in the kiss of Peter’s lips, and the gleam in his eye, and the way he mouths _I love you_ in the crook of Roman’s neck.

Roman might just be happy for the first time in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> pls comment if you read this! comments feed the author and make them write more ;)


End file.
